Black lilies swirling
by Nea-9
Summary: You didn't seriously think that sending Queen Mab into Nirvana was that easy, did you?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Hallmarks Merlin does not belong to me, and neither do the characters. A violation of copy rights is not intended.

A/N: This is to be considered post-Merlin, and deals with the consequences of the end of the Old Ways. The story goes in accordance with the movie, the only alternation is that Vortigern wasnt killed in battle, but sent into exile to the Faroe Islands. *cough* Further, I have no idea who became king after Arthur, so I simply decided it was Gawain. *shrugs*

I am probably messing with quite a chunk of British (and in later chapters with Nordic) history here, but hey, this is just a fanfic. Enjoy and have fun! But if anyone asksthe Faroese Islands were colonized in the 8th century. If I am not entirely mistaken, the Arthur-saga takes place in the 5th or 6th century. Lets just ignore these 300 years, shall we?

English is not my first language, so please have mercy, I am trying my best.

* * *

**Black lilies swirling**

Swirling black lilies totally ripe  
A secret code carved  
Swirling black lilies totally ripe  
A secret code carved

On the surface simplicity  
But the darkest pit in me  
It's pagan poetry  
Pagan poetry

_Bjrk__ Pagan Poetry_

Idath, the Lord of Winter, brushed a strand of red hair from his face and squinted as he stared at the grey skies. There were no clouds to be seen, no stars, no moon, no sun. Justgrey.

_Why just why wasnt anything happening?_

The Old Ways had found their end months ago, Merlin had defeated Queen Mab, and Christianity had finally found its way into the hearts of people. Only a few followers of the old faith still lived far up north. Galahad had returned with the Holy Grail, and finally, for the first time in centuries, there was peace on the island.

Gawain, who was now King of Brittan, had accepted the new religion as his own, and slowly, people started to rebuild their lives. They could watch the mortals from here. But that was about all they got to do.

It felt like the whole world had moved on, while they were still here, frozen in time.

Mabs last spells already started to crumble; the last bits of magic fell apart or drew back into far away corners of human memory. It was only a matter of time until Merlin and Nimue would find each other again. Idath wished the best for both of them, and hoped it wouldnt take them too long to get back together.

The Lord of Winter signed, concentrating his thoughts on their own situation again. No one had expected it to be like _this._ Well, no one had been expectinganything. They hadnt thought about their own death. Dying is a pretty absurd concept to immortal beings. Most of them had expected to disappear, or to become part of the Wild Hunt, and exist at the edges of dreams.

But now the few of them had ended up_here_. Wherever here was.

The air seemed stale, and the sky was like a lid that kept them from escaping. The grass was brown, had never been green, and not a single animal was in sight. Nothing seemed to truly _live_ here. They had tried to investigate their new surroundings, but the paths lead nowhere and the fields and forests ended in nothing.

At first, they had come to him for answers, had asked why they were here, but Idath hadnt been able to provide them answers. He was considered the Lord of Death, but this wasnt his realm. And he had no idea why they had been banned to this place.

Idath walked back to the group, his eyes focused on the rocky ground. He was just as helpless as them.

Loke looked up as he heard the Lord of Death returning. His red hair fell in messy waves over his shoulders.

Anything? the elemental king asked, but the spark of hope and enthusiasm that had forever been in his eyes was gone.

Idath only shrugged and sat down on a rock next to the Lord of Fire.

All of them were here, Loke, the Lady of the Lake, the Mountain king. A few fairies, gnomes and a dragon. Every single magical being that hadnt been killed during the war was here. Mind you, not many had been left.

Idath bit the inside of his lip. Yes, all of them were here. Except for one. And that particular being had been the key to their existence.

Mab.

* * *

Niniane pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, trying to keep the cold from settling in her bones. She knew she wouldnt succeed. Only few of them had survived the winter, and spring arrived late up here. Somewhere in a corner a sick child started to cry, but it soon subsided into a quiet whimper.

Those who hadnt been killed by the Christians had been driven away from their homes; their villages had been burned to the ground, along with the crops and the live stock in the stables.

Another fifty people from Ninianes village alone had died of starvation.

Only a month ago, they had arrived here, in the north of the island. Their journey had been long and painful; they had even crossed the old borders the Romans had left behind.

Finally, here, they had found other followers of the old beliefs, who had given them food and shelter. Still, the few who had survived werent able to start anew. At least not yet.

Niniane the sick childs mother almost whispered her name, but that was all she needed. Once, not too long ago, she had been a priestess of the Old Ways, back when life had still been in order.

She kneeled down next to the little boys bed, placing the back of her hand on his forehead and then on his cheeks. He was burning up with fever. Niniane sighed almost inaudibly. She didnt want the mother to feel her resignation. The boy probably wouldnt survive the night. The priestess closed her eyes for a moment. How could all this have happened? How could their gods simplyleave them behind like that? What had they done? They had always been loyal! How could they let their followers die like this?

But noNiniane had quarrelled with the Old Ways and their disappearance long enough; it was time to take action again.

I think I know how to help your son. For the first time in ages, somebody smiled at Niniane.

* * *

The water around her was black. It didnt even feel like water at all, it was just a dark substance that surrounded her. And she wasasleep. Yes, she had to be asleep, because she dreamed.

She, who was the Queen of the Old Ways, of Air and Darkness, the Mistress of Magic, was also the Mistress of Dreams. Dreams had always been with her, had brought her both happiness and fear, had shown her the past and the future, and had guided her way in darkness.

She knew that she hadbeen forgotten. She was dead to the world.

At least her dreams hadnt left her, for they were a part of what she was. They came to her through the endless night she was in, and unrolled her whole life in front of her.

They helped her remember everyone she had ever loved, every child she had given birth to, every friend, and every lover. She remembered the pain their deaths had caused her, how it had cut into her soul.

She remembered the arrival of the Romans on the islands, remembered all the fights, the battles, the fear and the bloodshed.

All the political intrigues and manoeuvres. Pacts, brotherhoods and betrayal.

She remembered the magic in her veins, the power she had had.

She still felt the responsibilities she had to carry, although she had never understood and never questioned why SHE had been the chosen one.

She remembered how difficult it all had been because she had been so alone. She was so lonelyand why did her heart hurt like this?

As the water slowly started drawing back, her raven curls floated on its surface like water snakes, framing her face perfectly. Had anyone been able to lay eyes on her in this very moment, he would have understood why people used to say that Queen Mab was made of darkness.

The sound of her own heartbeat almost caused her eardrums to burst, with a start she jolted up, causing the water around her to splash. She gasped, taking in the cool nights air.

Nothing had ever felt this good.

Her heavy eyelashes lowered onto her cheekbones, and two large drops of blood slowly ran down her cheeks.

She was alive. She was back.

Mab looked down at her reflection on the water, watching a pale witch with black hair and blood traces on her face staring back at her.

She had remembered herself.

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Kay, guys, please tell me what you thought of it so far! A second chapter is already in the making! But for that, I NEED reviews, ok?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Hallmarks Merlin does not belong to me, and neither do the characters. A violation of copy rights is not intended.

A/N: This is to be considered post-Merlin, and deals with the consequences of the end of the Old Ways. The story goes accordance to the movie, the only alternation is that Vortigern wasnt killed in battle, but sent into exile to the Faroese Islands. *cough* Further, I have no idea who became king after Arthur, so I simply decided it was Gawain. *shrugs*

I am probably messing with quite a chunk of British (and in later chapters with Nordic) history here, but hey, this is just a fanfic. Enjoy and have fun!

I realize that in the movie, quite a few years passed between Vortigerns death and the death of Arthur and Mordred. But anyways, I sent Vortigern into exile and further decided that only 5 years have gone by. Because I am queen when it comes to this story and I can do whatever the bloody hell I want. (Quote: Queeny from Blackadder)

English is not my first language, so please have mercy, I am trying my best.

* * *

**Swirling black lilies**

Moaning, Vortigern got out of his bed to put another log onto the fire. Outside, it had yet again started to rain, and a cool, moist wind had come up. The weather on these islands seemed to be changing every five minutes, especially this time of the year. Well, at least the small flowers out on the cliffs and fields had started to bloom.

Vortigern wasn't sure whether he was to be grateful for still being alive, here on these sparely populated islands full of Vikings and Norsemen, knowing that hed preferred death in battle anytime. The winters were long and bleak up here, but at least the short summer months were to bring diversion.

Vortigern put his arm onto the mantelshelf, and unconsciously ran his other hand over his bare chest. His skin was covered in battle scars. Smaller scratches that had left faint, pale marks, and deep wounds, that had become ugly evidence of his life as a fighter. He took pride in every single one of them.

He brushed light blonde hair out of his eyes, went to pick up a few logs of wood and threw them into the flames. He watched sparks flying, and closed his eyes for a moment. It was closer to the morning than to the middle of the night and he was looking forward to get back between his blankets, no matter how nice standing next to the fire seemed to be right now.

In a second, all his drowsiness was washed away, as a flash of angry lightning cut through the darkness of the chamber. His instincts sharpened in an instant, as he turned around, goose bumps appearing on his skin.

She stood in the middle of the room, looking at him with huge, wet, opal coloured eyes. He had seen the clothes she wore on priestesses of the Old Ways, a tight shirt wrapped around her torso that bared her midriff, and a long black skirt.

Her hair fell in cascades over her shoulders, long and silky, giving the perfect contrast to her milky skin. The sight of her knocked the air out of his lungs.

It couldn't be, she couldnt be here! She was gone! She and her magic had left the world months ago! Similar things had happened in the northern countries. The people on these islands still talked about something they call Ragnarök.

But still, she stood in front of him, looking even more beautiful and delicate than the last time he had seen her.

"M..Mab?" he stuttered, the surprise and shock clearly visible on his face.

Vortigern she whispered his name, and quickly closed the distance between them, not really giving him a moment to process her appearance. Flowing into his arms, she sighed and rested her face against his chest.

He almost flinched as he closed his arms around her. Her skin felt cold as ice! As if she had been swimming in the sea, but her clothes and hair were dry, he noticed as he buried a hand in her dark mane. He held her for a moment, trying to catch up with what just had happened. The Queen of the Old Ways was alive and here with him, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. But why?

"Mab?" he quietly asked, but got no answer. He felt how she went limp in his arms, her eyes closing, knees giving out under her.

He called her name again, and gathered her up in his arms, carrying over to his bed.

Even though all he knew about her was that she was a fairy of sorts, but the last time he had seen her, her body temperature had been decidedly higher.

Vortigern pulled the blankets over her, and decided to throw another log onto the fire before carefully getting into the bed next to her. Mab sighed, her eyelids fluttering.

"Its alright, it's alright." he whipsered to her. His warm breath brushed over the shell of her ear. He closed his arms around her and pulled her close, making sure they had skin contact.

The witch sighed again, but kept her eyes shut this time.

While she more or less peacefully slept, Vortigern didn't even dare to think about rest. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, it all had happened so fast!

Queen Mab was HERE with him, she didn't die, she was alive! And judging by the way her flesh warmed under his touch, she would be feeling a lot better in the morning.

He took the liberty to bury his face in her black hair, and tried to collect his thoughts.

Well, she would tell him what had happened in the morning. At least he hoped she would still be there by then.

* * *

Please tell me what you think about it, I am planning at least a third chapter, maybe even more.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Hallmarks Merlin does not belong to me, and neither do the characters. A violation of copy rights is not intended.

A/N: This is to be considered post-Merlin, and deals with the consequences of the end of the Old Ways. The story goes accordance to the movie, the only alternation is that Vortigern wasnt killed in battle, but sent into exile to the Faroese Islands. *cough* Further, I have no idea who became king after Arthur, so I simply decided it was Gawain. *shrugs*

I am probably messing with quite a chunk of British (and in later chapters with Nordic) history here, but hey, this is just a fanfic. Enjoy and have fun!

I realize that in the movie, quite a few years passed between Vortigerns death and the death of Arthur and Mordred. But anyways, I sent Vortigern into exile and further decided that only 5 years have gone by. Because I am queen when it comes to this story and I can do whatever the bloody _hell I want. (Quote: Queeny from Blackadder)_

_English is not my first language, so please have mercy, I am trying my best._

**_Swirling black lilies_**

_Faroe__ Islands_

Somehow, he expected her to be gone as he returned to his chambers, the early morning sun illuminating the whole room.

And still, it stung him to find the bed empty.

He had left her at the crack of dawn while she still slept peacefully, her hair spread around her life a fan.

Why he had even gotten up he couldn't explain.

He had watched over her all night, making sure she rested as comfortably as possible, while his mind continuously worked.

But at a certain point he had simply stopped wondering. He knew that if she was willing to tell him, she would. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to draw a single word from her.

Vortigern sighed as he looked down onto the crumpled blankets and sheets. Yes, he had changed.

He had lost his kingdom, his power, his home. The day he had left Britain on a ship a strange chill had settled in his bones. It had taken him quite some time to find out that it was the feeling of defeat. That and, well, he was simply getting old. He hadn't been young when he had first met Mab, and nowhe was among the oldest on these islands.

This morning he had decided it was warm enough for a bath in one of the ponds near the small village, and the hair in the back of his neck was still wet. Lost in thoughts, he ran a hand through it, feeling the cool drops of water against the callused palms of his hand.

"Good morning."

Her voice shook him out of his reverie, causing him to jump a little.

The window had been opened, what explained the floods of light in the chamber. She sat on the windowsill with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her skirts had been gathered up, exposing smooth, slender thighs and even more of that luscious skin of hers.

Why hadn't he seen her? She had been sitting only a few feet away, and he hadn't even noticed, he had only been staring at the bed in which she had spent the night.

Regaining his composure quickly, he walked over to her.

"Good morning." He replied, pulling a large chair up to sit down at her feet.

"You look better."

And indeed, she did.

She had always been pale, ghostly even, but the glow had returned to her skin. Her hair hung in loose waves around her face, giving the impression of silken snakes.

She didn't smile at him this time, her look serious and focused.

"Ask."

"Excuse me?" Vortigern raised an eyebrow.

"I know you have questions. Ask."

He took a deep breath, as if contemplating what do. The silence between them grew, but they held each others glance. Finally, he spoke.

"They said you were gone. What happened?"

He knew she had to have anticipated the question, but she hesitated before she answered, looking out the window. One could see the ocean from here.

"I was forgotten, so I ceased to exist."

When he realised that she was not going to continue, he leant forward and put an elbow on the large chairs arm rest.

"But you are here now. You are talking to me, I can see you, I can touch you. Whywhat happened?"

The silence hung between them like a heavy veil, but no one spoke. Vortigern refused to, he had formulated a clear, direct question. It was her turn to answer. Mab refused to, simply because she didnt know how to answer to him.

They sat there some time, simply holding each others gaze, and not for the first time Vortigern regretted that she had come into his life so late. No, he still didnt believe in the Old Ways, or whatever was left of it. Religion or spirituality had never been of importance to him, but still, he knew that together, they would have ruled Britain.

"Dont you think its unfairto vanish because people simply forget you? Mortals die, but even they are remembered by their loved ones, they live on in their memory and in their hearts, and therefore they are never completely gone. It is a form of immortality." She looked at Vortigern, but didnt expect him to say anything. He didnt. T"o forget someone is the cruellest thing one can dobecause that is what kills. That is true for mortals and for us." There was sadness in her eyesno, it was not sadness, it was something else. Was it anger? Or realism?

She unfolded her arms and stretched a shapely leg, placing her bare foot against his chest. Vortigerns eyes widened.

"But then again, men may live happily, even if no one ever wastes a single thought on them." She concluded.

His heart was beating so hard he was sure she could hear it, but he exerted himself to hold up his composure.

He wrapped his hands around her ankle and instep.

"You are wrong." He said, caressing her skin. "It would hurt me a great deal if youd forget me."

He let go of her to stand up and hold out a hand, helping her jump off the sill, even if he was perfectly aware of the fact that she didn't exactly need help for that.

As she stood in front of him, he hesitated a moment, still not sure if she was actually here, in these chambers, sunlight caught in her raven hair.

"It's good to have you here." he said, simply because it broke the silence between them and because it was the truth.

The kiss was soft and slow, so unorthodox for both of them, but they didnt mind. He stepped back without breaking the kiss, pulling her with him. He slowly sat down in the chair again, making her sit in his lap like a little child. He remembered the time she had visited him in his tent, telling him that Uther was going to attack.

Wrapping one arm around her midriff to caress the bare skin of her back, he buried the other one in her hair and deepened the kiss. She responded in kind and ran her fingernails down his chest before she parted her lips.

Breathlessly he broke the kiss for a moment, resting his forehead against hers. After a moment of silence, he opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed her finger against his lips.

"Shhhh, not now."

She tugged at his shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing it carelessly to the floor. Her hands were on his chest, gliding over muscles and scars. His skin was rough and soft at the same time, and she certainly seemed to enjoy touching him.

They kissed again, if only briefly.

Slowly, his hand glided over her knee, over her thigh and further back.

She sighed, then slid off the chair and knelt on the floor in front of him. She didnt exactly seem to be in a hurry, and her soft touches were his pure agony, but complaining about it was far from his mind.

He rolled his head back and closed his eyes, leaving the situation in her hands. They weren't fighting anymore- not the Christians, not each other, so he didn't mind surrendering to the fairy that knelt before him.

He buried a hand in the dark masses of her hair, and for the first time in ages, he felt himself relax. Maybe life had treated him kinder than he had thought at first.

He suppressed a moan, and the muscles on his stomach tensed. He clenched his fists and slightly pulled her hair. Sensing he was close, Mab brushed a hand over his chest and stomach, trying to calm him with her touch.

"Please" he whispered, unable to open his eyes, blood rushing through his veins. His fists were clutched so tightly his tendons were emerging clearly.

When he knew he couldn't hold himself back any longer, he leant forward and grabbed her arms, pulling her back onto his lap. She pushed her skirts up a bit and he felt the naked skin of her thighs brushing against his.

His fingers shook as he untied the laces of her shirt, forcing himself to keep his patience. With her help, the garment soon was lying on the floor next to his clothes.

"I want to look at you." He declared, causing her to smile.

"If you wish." She sat up straight, exposing herself fully to his gaze.

Wordlessly, he raised a hand and placed his fingertips at the centre of her collar bone, just below the hollow of her throat.

Slowly, he trailed down, only the tips of his fingers touching her skin. She shivered delightfully, and he smiled, but stopped abruptly as he had reached the valley between her breasts. His hand rested below her heart, and he realised that the difference between them couldnt be greater.

The skin on his hands looked lined and weathered, while hers was like nacre.

A dark shadow crossed his face, but his eyes widened as she closed both her hands around his.

"What is wrong?" she asked, but he only shook her head.

"Nothing."

She let go of his hands and shifted slightly, allowing him to slide into her. His moan was echoed by a loud sigh from her throat.

His hands roamed her body as she started to move her hips in long, warm waves.

His lips brushed against her nipples, making her gasp. They were moving together, just like they had been the last time, only that now, they had nothing left to lose.

Sweat glistering on his chest, he held her close, his hand slowly moving down her back, while she buried her own hands in his hair, caressing his face and brushing her fingers over his lips.

A soft cry escaped her lips as she reached the climax of her lust, holding onto him as if her life depended on it, scratching her nails down his shoulder.

He waited until she had calmed before he grabbed her and stood up, pressing her against the nearest wall effortlessly.

Her legs coiled around his waist, and within a few trusts, he followed her over the edge, burying his face in her hair.

The remained standing in that position, leaning against the wall, Vortigern supporting her whole weight, refusing to leave her body just yet. She hid her face against his shoulder, her arms locked around his neck.

* * *

She was tying the laces of her shirt as suddenly a question came to his mind.

"You still have your powers, dont you?" he asked, his curiosity sparked.

"How else would I have been able to appear in your chambers in the middle of the night if I didnt have my powers?" she asked, and ran a hand through her hair.

"True. and what about the immortality?"

This time, she smiled.

"We can put that to a test."

Walking over to a large wooden table, she picked one of Vortigerns daggers, holding it up to him as if asking for permission to use it.

He shrugged, unsure about what she was going to do.

Lifting her arm, she pulled her sleeve back, exposing soft, pale skin.

Suddenly realizing what she had in mind, his eyes widened.

"No, dont..." He called, and ran over to her, but it was too late.

She pulled the dagger across her flesh, opening the skin and causing a thick line of ruby red blood to appear.

She dropped the dagger as he grabbed her arm, ready to shout at her for injuring herself, as suddenly the skin on her lower arm closed again, the blood completely disappearing.

Not even the faintest scratch was to be seen, just perfect, pearly skin.

"See? Good as new."

* * *

Thanks for reading, and please review!!


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